His property

I always thought true love was something that would happen to you at your own will. You'd chose who to love and if they loved you back then well yay for you. I never thought I'd have to deal with this. I was no longer considered a human being. I was an object. I was his property.

My dad's exact words, "I don't care if he's Black, White, Asian, green, or rainbow. As long as he respects you, has a job, and can take care of you that's fine with me. But if he puts his hands on you, I guarantee nobody will find his body in one piece."